The Audience
by Whitechapelfangirl
Summary: ITV Whitechapel - SLASH - Chandler hadn't intended to see what he had, he certainly didn't intend to see a naked Emerson Kent


Title: The Audience

Fandom: Whitechapel

Author: Caladdagh_Irish

Pairing: Chandler/Kent

Rating PG13

Summary: Chandler hadn't intended to see what he had, defiantly not a naked Emerson Kent.

Joe hadn't intended to see as much as he did. He didn't intend to see anything in fact. He _certainly_ hadn't intended to see Emerson Kent in the shower, _naked. _As one usually is in the shower_._

It had been another late night, with the rest of the team going home not on time, but not as late as their boss. Chandler had stayed behind as usual, until it was pitch black outside, looking over the files, tidying the office and generally delaying the time he had to go home to his empty, cold flat.

One of the files that he wanted to re-read had been taken down to Buchan earlier that day, so the DI straightened the papers on his desk, as well as his phone, badge and watch, before standing and making his way down to the archives. He had fumbled with the light switch for a few seconds, before the room was bathed in a dim glow, the light barely touching the shadowed corners. How in god's name did Buchan work down here? He quickly found the file he needed, placing it firmly under his arm and hastily retreating up the stairs and onto the ground floor.

Chandler had been walking back towards the main foyer of the station, and the stairs up to the incident room, when he stopped suddenly at an open doorway. It was the Staff changing rooms (Mostly only used by the uniforms), the door was wedged open by a block of wood, which it shouldn't be, as it was always locked by a number combination. The DI frowned further when he heard the sound of running water from inside. A shower? It was late at night, and only skeleton staff were in the station at this time. Who would be showering at this time? Or had someone just left the shower running?

At this point Chandler should have just nudged the wedge from under the door, shut it, and left, leaving whoever it was to their privacy. But for his curiosity, he couldn't. Instead he entered the dimly lit changing room, wrinkling his nose at the slight damp smell, and the sight of a few dirty items of clothing scattered around. He walked past a row of lockers and benches, and around a corner following the noise of flowing water and the increasing amount of steam.

As the showers came into view Chandler pulled a little at his collar, beginning to feel a little hot from the humidity. He also realised that someone was indeed in the shower and it hadn't just been left on by accident.

Chandler had planned to retreat silently, his curiosity and worry satisfied, but after another second he realised who it was in the shower and promptly blushed profusely, immediately averting his eyes.

It was Kent.

Why was he still here? When had he left? Chandler couldn't recall when the young man had left the incident room, but he clearly hadn't gone very far.

The DC was standing with his back to Chandler, facing the shower, with his head bowed under the hot spray of water, both palms flat against the wall in front of him, his weight braced on the tiles. The water flattened the hairs on the crown of his head and cascaded through each individual curl down the back of his neck and those plastered to his forehead. His eyes were closed and his skin was flushed in areas where the obviously scalding water had touched.

Chandler had tried to not look back, but his eyes were drawn to the naked form of his constable, like a magnet to metal.

The young man's body was lean and lightly muscled, maybe a little on the skinny side, but by no means unhealthy. His natural skin was almost too pale, but he carried it off well Joe thought. His shoulders were hunched slightly, the shoulder blades prominent, while the line of his back was solid, the muscles playing beneath the skin with each breath Kent took. The steam partially obstructed the view of anything lower, for which Chandler wasn't sure if he was grateful of disappointed.

The DI watched in fascination as Kent lightly pushed off the wall, regaining his balance and lifted his face to the stream of water, his hands coming up to run through his hair, pushing back the stubborn strands from his face, lips parting slightly against the onslaught of water.

Beautiful.

Woah, where did that word come from?! Chandler thought, his heart pounding in his chest. Kent shouldn't be described as beautiful by his boss. But it was the only word coming to Chandlers mind at the present. The young man's fingers continued to massage his scalp, his eyes still firmly closed; against the splash of the water or in relaxation the DI wasn't sure.

It was then that the steam became displaced a little, revealing more of Kent's lower body, the sight drawing a slightly shocked gasp from the DI's lips (which was thankfully muffled by the sound of the flowing shower).

He had never seen Kent's scars. He had imagined them, he had read the medical reports, he had heard the hisses of pain the young man gave when he got up from sitting in one place too long and the crinkles as a blister pack of analgesics was opened, with more frequency than the prescription indicated.

But none of that had prepared him for the actual sight of the scars. They were long healed by now, but it didn't lessen the impact.

In contrast to the word that last materialised from his mind the first one that came to Chandler was 'ugly'. The scars were ugly. Two rough and raised looking slashes of hardened collagen and fibrin spanned across the entirety of Kent's buttocks, marring what used to be a flawless expanse of flesh. 'Ugly' was the only word that could be used.

That didn't mean that Kent appeared any less beautiful. The area around the scars was still normal and toned; his legs were muscled and strong, a dusting of hair covering them. The fact that the young man was still standing after everything that had happened meant that despite the scars being ugly, the man bearing them was anything but.

Joe couldn't take his eyes off of his DC, the whole picture affecting him more than it should. His body reacted almost automatically, his respiration and heart rate increasing, and the slightly more embarrassing reaction in his trousers.

Damn! He shouldn't be doing this; he was intruding on his DC, in a private moment. He needed to leave, he couldn't stay.

Despite these panicked thoughts Chandler couldn't help taking a hesitant step forward towards the younger man. What he didn't plan on was his expensive shoes slipping on a small puddle of water, causing him to stumble and unintentionally release a surprised yelp. Once he had regained his balance he glanced at Kent, who had frozen in the shower, his back straight and tense. Chandler then hurriedly made his exit, practically throwing himself around the corner so that he couldn't be seen.

Kent turned around fully, using his hands to wipe water from his face, his expression surprised and slightly apprehensive.

"Hello? Is someone there?" Kent called out, not knowing if he expected someone to answer or not, of if he even wanted someone to answer.

Around the corner Chandler regained his balance and his heartbeat slightly, shaking his head at his foolishness and that he's almost got caught 'perving' on his young subordinate officer. With another deep breath the DI straightened his tie and suit sleeves, before risking one last glace in Kent's direction, then as quietly as he could made his way out of the locker room, closing the door behind him. He hurried up the stairs to the incident room, willing his body's reaction to stop, trying with all of his willpower to forget the image of his naked DC, lent up against the wall, water cascading over his body. It was like the sight was burned into the back of his eyelids, appearing whenever he closed his eyes.

Oh god he was in trouble.

After a few seconds of silence Kent had turned back to the shower and switched it off, hesitantly turning around and quickly grabbing the white towel that he'd hung on one of the hooks. It was quickly wrapped around his lower body, covering his modesty.

The young man began to pad his way out of the shower section of the locker room, investigating if anyone had come in, his hair still dripping water everywhere, the droplets winding their way down his chest. He had clearly heard a voice and a thud, as if someone had fallen. He was sure someone had been watching him.

His foot caught something on the damp floor, it rattled across the tiles before spinning on an edge for a few seconds, eventually falling silent and still. Kent picked it up.

It was Tiger Balm.

There was only one person who used this in the station.

Had Chandler been the one who had come in here and watched him? Kent gripped the little gold pot in one fist, his mind running a mile minute, wondering if he should be mortified, embarrassed, flattered or just worried. Chandler would have been able to see his scars, completely unobstructed. That thought sent Kent cold. He could only hope that the other man hadn't been disgusted by the sight of them. Maybe he wouldn't even mention this tomorrow morning.

The DI clearly hadn't wanted to be caught as it appeared he had made such a quick exit this had fallen from his pocket. Maybe instead he had liked what he had seen. It was unlikely, but possible.

Eventually Kent's lips curved into a little smile. He may have to subtly enquire about this tomorrow, or maybe just keep taking showers at the station, see if he would draw another audience.


End file.
